


St Andrew's Day Celebrations (It makes some kind of mad, crazy sense if you read it, honestly)

by FechtarTheDragon (mariothellama)



Series: Occasional glimpses into Matze and Auba's relationship [5]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Auba has a crazy idea, Borussia Dortmund, Established Relationship, I really have no idea where this came from!, M/M, celebrating St Andrew's Day, cuddly toy companions, feeling down after a bad game, love and comfort, set after Bundesliga defeat, this is just a crazy fluffy bit of cheering fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8707189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariothellama/pseuds/FechtarTheDragon
Summary: Matze is feeling a little bit down and Auba finds a very unusual and very personal way to comfort him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blue_Night](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Anniversary Days](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8224885) by [Blue_Night](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Blue_Night). 



> My dear Blue_Night
> 
> Since you wrote such a lovely story about me and how I came to live with Matze, I wanted to write you one to cheer you up. And Mistress hasn't been writing about my beloved Aubinter and some people have not been very nice about my Matze recently. So this is my special Aubinter story just for you. Mistress said it had to be 'Teen and Up' as I am not allowed to write about sex! Auba is much better at St Andrew's Day than Mistress by the way; I only got Glühwein because we have no whisky!
> 
> Love and hugs  
> Fechtar the Dragon

Matze was sitting slumped on the sofa, trying hard to stay positive and keep focused. He needed to be at his very best in training tomorrow. Fechtar, the little orange dragon Auba had so lovingly made for him, was sitting on the coffee table staring hard at Matze, half reproachfully, half consolingly. She had a knack of looking at you as if she knew exactly what you were thinking. ‘It’s OK for you, Fechtar,‘ Matze said finally, ‘All you have to do is look cute and adorable. Nobody is constantly analyzing your performance in the press or on social media. You aren’t responsible for anything but yourself.’

OK, so now he was talking to a stuffed dragon. Matze’s life really was crazy these days. And the look Fechtar was giving him so clearly said ‘I love you Matze, but you’re being an idiot right now. And I am responsible for something … for you!’ Matze knew that she was right, he was being stupid, that none of this was his fault. The opportunities this season had given him were everything he had wanted, everything he had dreamed of. But sometimes he wished it could just be … well …just a little bit easier. Why did every season have to be a struggle? Why was there always this feeling that there was some kind of crisis or disaster looming on the horizon?

Twenty seconds! What kind of useless defence concedes a goal just twenty seconds into the second half! And even though he knew that he had made the right decision … even though he knew that there was nothing more he could have done … even though he knew you had to analyze these things … had to learn from them and then forget them and move on … well that was sometimes easier said than done. So he sat there as the sun set, sitting in the gathering gloom of the evening dusk drawing in while a small, orange dragon watched him with concern and just a little bit of annoyance on her face.

His introspection was rudely interrupted by a whirlwind of noise and light and energy entering their flat, the whirlwind he knew and loved as his Auba. But as soon as Auba saw him sitting there sunk deep in contemplation, he dropped the bag he was holding and rushed over to Matze, snuggling up behind him and pulling him into a tight embrace. Matze sighed with happiness as he felt strong arms around him, as he sank back into the warmth and solidity of Auba’s body, drawing strength and comfort from the man he loved, the man who understood him better than anyone else ever could.

He felt a nose nuzzling gently against his cheek, felt soft, wet lips kissing over his neck and face before planting a deep kiss on his temple. They relaxed together silently for a few moments, just enjoying the feel of their bodies pressed close together, their breathing almost synchronized. Finally he heard Auba speak, his breath tickling Matze’s ear, ‘Don’t think about it, Matze. Don’t overthink it. You need to look forward. If I worried about every time I missed in front of an open goal, I’d be too scared ever to go on the pitch again.’

‘You do have a really bad habit of doing that,’ Matze chuckled.

‘That’s rude!’ Auba complained in a joking tone of voice, punching Matze on the arm before starting to try and tickle him into submission. Matze retaliated and they rolled about on the sofa for a few minutes, play fighting as to who could force the other into submission.

Of course Matze won and he ended up lying on top of Auba as his amazing boyfriend looked up at him, stroking his soft, light brown hair. His voice was gentler now, ‘Don’t think about it, Matthias. Think about the time when you were the only fit centre back we had left, everybody thought we would lose and we didn't. The time when you had the guts to take a penalty and keep us in the cup. And anyway,’ Auba shrugged, ‘We’ve played nineteen competitive games and only lost three. That’s not too shabby!’

‘You’re right,’ Matze smiled.

‘Of course I’m right, I’m always right. You should know that by now. But if you could get your big, fat, heavy defender’s body off me, I’d like to show you something.’

Matze grunted, but complied as Auba reached for his phone and the small dragon who was sitting on their coffee table, walking her up Matze’s arm to sit proudly and protectively on his shoulder.

‘Why on earth are you showing me our own team’s Facebook page, Auba?’

‘Well they are wishing all our Scottish fans a happy St Andrew’s Day for today. Your little Fechtar is really Scottish isn’t she? So I thought we could celebrate.’ Fechtar was nodding enthusiastically by now, which of course had nothing to do with Auba pressing her nose up and down with his finger.

‘Pierre! What have you done?’

‘I went to the English Shop in the Westenhellweg after training and asked them what we needed to celebrate properly. They sold me these …’ To Matze’s amazement, Auba started dragging a random selection of things out of a carrier bag. ‘ … we have biscuits. Made with lots of butter. Apparently it’s called shortbread. And a bottle of whisky. And this as well … ‘ Auba handed Matze a tin of something.

‘Haggis?’ Matze asked questioningly.

‘Yeah. The woman said we absolutely had to have this but on no account were we to google what it was. And she gave me a list of things to buy in the supermarket. She even wrote down what one of them was in German for me. I have no idea what it is.’

He handed the vegetables to Matze. ‘Um … Pierre … do you have any idea how to cook any of this?’

‘Not a clue. I was hoping you might.’

Matze sighed. This was so like his Auba. And there was one other problem he couldn’t ignore. ‘This really isn’t stuff we should be eating, Auba. And we definitely shouldn’t be drinking alcohol midweek between games. You are not exactly inconspicuous, you know. There are probably photos of you coming out of that shop on Instagram by now. And if Tuchel finds out, he’ll suspend us both for sure. The mood he's in he’d suspend Weidenfeller if he stepped out of line, even if that meant putting Mario in goal!’

‘P-l-e-e-e-e-e-a-s-e,’ begged Auba. ‘It’ll be fun. I’ve gone to soooooooo much effort. And we only need to have a tiny sip – a dram the woman called it – of the whisky. And the food isn’t _that_ unhealthy.’

‘Well we’d better set every alarm we have just to make sure,’ Matze muttered darkly, his resistance being word down by Auba’s relentless enthusiasm as it always was. ‘We just can’t be late for training. That really would be the end of us.’

‘I’ve already thought of that,’ laughed Auba. ‘Marco and Erik are going to phone us in the morning and refuse to hang up until we answer. And if we don’t speak to them, they’ll come and ring our door buzzer.’

Of course. Matze should have known it. Auba could never have hatched such a mad, crazy plan without telling his bro all about it. But he could trust Erik to take it seriously enough and make sure they would make it to training in time. In fact, he’d message Erik himself just to make sure that everything was under control.

So Matze went into the kitchen to cook. And Auba came to ‘help’. And it was fun, Matze had to admit that. And the food tasted really good, especially the not-to-be-too-closely-investigated haggis. And the ‘bashed neeps’ or turnip (for that was what the strange, unidentified _Steckrübe_ that Auba had been dispatched to buy turned out to be) was even OK for their diet plan, although maybe mashed with just a little less butter next time. And one glass of whisky wasn’t going to kill them. Although Auba had nearly choked on the raw spirit and Matze had almost done himself an injury laughing at Auba’s face with the tears running down his cheeks.

And Matze did indeed feel much better by the end of the evening. The last things he felt before drifting off to sleep were Auba’s strong arms around him and the kiss he pressed on the back of his neck. And little Fechtar, their proud Scottish dragon, sat on their nightstand with a satisfied smile on her face watching over her favourite defender and her favourite striker just like she did every night.

**Author's Note:**

> Mistress says I have to point out that I have messed up the carefully constructed Aubinter timeline as technically I don't go to live with Matze until next summer. BUT I DON'T CARE AS MY MATZE NEEDS ME NOW. And anyway, Matze himself might mess up our fictional timeline if he does play in the U-21 EM next summer, which may well happen.


End file.
